87. CHAPTER LXXXVII.
THE FUGITIVE.
Willy, and Mary, and the grandame, were seated at the
breakfast table, as the early sun of the morning threw its
rosy tints on the peaceful valley of the Brandywine.
“Yes,” said Willy, “we shall have peace, now, and a
lasting peace, I have no doubt. Both sections have found
that nothing is to be gained by civil war; and as for Disunion,
what is that but war?”
“True, Willy,” said Mary, who had always sympathized
with the South, “such Disunion as was attempted by Ruffleton
and General Crook. But if either section were to
seek to deprive the other of its constitutional rights, so that
the people of the opposing sections were unanimous, then
separation would be quite a different thing—it would be the
same as the separation of the Colonies from Great Britain,
which Washington approved, and which his Maker seemed
to sanction.”
“His Maker did sanction it!” said the grandame, “or it
would not have succeeded. And, be assured, my children,
that this Union will continue, until the Lord, which sanctioned
it, shall consent to its destruction. And I pray that
he may not be made angry by the guilt and ingratitude of
the people, so as to permit them to become the victims of
anarchy and despotism! But who is that?” This inquiry
was occasioned by the barking of Bruce, the watchdog, and
a moment after the latch of the door was raised, and a
woman in tattered garments, but whose face was enveloped
in a thick green veil, entered hurriedly, and tottered to a
chair, seemingly exhausted by fatigue.
“Begone, Bruce!” said Mary, interposing between the
dog and the visitor.
“Poor thing!” said the grandame. “How she pants!
Lift up your head, child—you are among friends here.
Come, sit at the table and eat with us.”
“Yes, you must be the friends of the houseless wanderer!”
said the stranger. And throwing aside her veil,
Willy and Mary recognised her face, though pale and careworn.
“Flora Summers!” they exclaimed.
“Yes—it is Flora!” said she. “I am now a fugitive,
and crave a little food for charity! I have wandered on
foot all night long, in quest of—no matter!”
“All night!” said the grandame—“and no sleep—no
food—no rest!”
“No—no rest! No rest for me!” said Flora, swallowing
some coffee, which had been brought by Willy. “Thank
you, Willy! That will do. Now let me read this paper
which I obtained from a boy at the depot.” It was one of the
Philadelphia journals, printed that morning, and contained
telegraphic news from all directions. A copy had likewise
been received at the cottage, and Willy and Mary were
already familiar with its contents, and they maintained a
respectful silence while Flora glanced at the exciting items.
“It is as I supposed!” said Flora. “President Randolph
has arrived at Washington, and is re-established at the
White House. All the members of the late government
have signified their adhesion. All abandoned Ruffleton in
the hour of adverse fortune! None—none, true to him!
None but me! And here I see that it is the same in the
East, the North, and the West. And even in England.
They are rejoicing in France over his downfall, and call
him another Robespierre! But I—yes, I will share his
fate!”
“Where is he?” asked Mary.
“Where is he? If I knew, think you I would tell—
and above all, tell you, who hate him?”
“I hate no one,” said Mary. “I feared him—and he
sought to do me injury—but that is forgiven—for he has
since been kind to Willy.”
“To Willy — yes! I would trust Willy. But there is
no necessity. He will meet me at the place appointed, if
not taken—and if he had been taken, would not the news
have been in the paper? And yet I have waited and
watched in vain, I will return to the place appointed. Willy,
you must not go with me! I believe you would serve me
—but it is not necessary, and it might put you in trouble,
for he is charged with the death of General Hudson. I
have provided a vessel, and if we escape, we shall leave the
country for ever. A morsel of bread to carry with me, and
then I must leave your blessed cottage—with many thanks
for your kindness. And now—pray do not reply—farewell—and
may God bless you!”
Flora, being revived, hurried away, without heeding the
menacing eyes of the dog. But the animal was awed by
her indifference, and did not dare to molest her. She proceeded
to the place appointed for the meeting, and seeing
a portly man in a harvester's blouse, she rushed forward
and threw herself in his arms. It was Ruffleton. He bore
her to a homely cart a few paces distant, and drove away
towards the river, where a schooner lay at anchor. They
were soon on board, and were never heard of afterwards.
